


Birds

by finch (afinch)



Category: To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Scout knew it was going to be a bitter Christmas, so she tried her hardest not to get arrested. But this was an illegal war, even if she did have a brother fighting in it, no matter what the UN said. The UN didn't trump the United States constitution, and she couldn't believe Eisenhower had sent troops in.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galaxysoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxysoup/gifts).



Atticus folded back the paper after Jem finished speaking. All the stories were about Korea - for the last year it had been nothing but stories about Korea; now Jem was going and Atticus was refusing to speak to Jem. In desperation, Jem had turned to Scout for help.

"Don't look at me, you brought this on yourself," Scout retorted. He'd jumped off and joined the war right after Pearl Harbor; the valedictorian had given a rousing speech on how for God, honor, and country, they needed to do their duty and join the war efforts. Scout was younger, still in school, and she got to watch all the little boys coming back, and how deeply it tore at her father.

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Anything else would have been good." 

"Well, we can't all be you, Jean. How many times have you been arrested?"

"Only six. That's not the point. Atticus raised us better than this, and you're being mean, on purpose, stop it."

Jem sighed, rubbed his head with his fist, something Atticus had done since she was a child. She wondered when Jem had started doing it; Scout didn't feel the need to remind him that he was just like Atticus in so many ways. She didn't correct him on Jean anyway. No one called her Jean. They'd said Scout was a nickname she'd grow out of, but she never had. 

Where Jem saw the need to go to war, Scout saw the hopelessness of the human condition. Nuclear non-proliferation was her passion, which put her at odds with Jem. He was mad that she thought he should have gone to Japan in an invasion and likely died; she was mad that he so callously dismissed the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians. They'd sparred over the issue many times, until Atticus had forbidden them from discussing it under his roof.

"I'm leaving and he won't let me say goodbye, Jean." He knew his father didn't understand, and he didn't expect his father to understand. There was just as much honor in being a soldier as there was a lawyer. Let Jean go to school - goodness knew she and Atticus had filed enough lawsuits to get her into school, and then again into the Masters program, and now finally again in the doctoral program. There was more than enough school in her for the both of them. Now he was leaving for war again, and his father wouldn't say goodbye, and it hurt. They had their differences, but it was war, and so there was the chance that he wasn't going to be coming home again. 

Scout just shrugged, "I don't know, Jem. I really don't. Just come home walking, okay?"

*

She stayed the rest of that week for dinner, Atticus quiet and reflective, Miss Atkinson talking about a war that occurred long before Scout had been born. Atticus retired to his study to be alone, and Scout sat in the living room with Miss Atkinson. Even after all these years, Scout couldn't bear to call her Maude. 

"Jem's gone and been a right old nut," she said to her old neighbour.

"I know, my dear," Miss Atkinson said. "He'll be careful of the gas though, right? They said the Germans used gas. At Ypres. It was in the paper this morning."

Scout leaned over and took Miss Atkinson's hand in hers, smiling gently at the elderly woman. "That was years ago, Miss Atkinson. We're not fighting the Germans anymore."

Miss Atkinson looked puzzled, "Aren't we? It was in the paper, I saw …"

"Alright," Scout said gently. "Alright." 

Atticus had said it was dementia, that Miss Atkinson was losing her memories. Miss Atkinson would seem so normal, and then suddenly she wasn't. She was in a different time, and neither she, nor her father, nor the doctors, knew how to bring her to the present.

*

Scout knew it was going to be a bitter Christmas, so she tried her hardest not to get arrested. But this was an illegal war, even if she did have a brother fighting in it, no matter what the UN said. The UN didn't trump the United States constitution, and she couldn't believe Eisenhower had sent troops in. Her train was supposed to take her to Alabama at half-past eight, but at half-past eight she was still in Washington with four other people, waiting to be bailed out. Not exactly the best Christmas she could have given her father, all alone with Miss Atkinson. She hoped they were getting along all right, and that they would save some ham.

It was three days before she made it Maycomb, her hair unkempt and her clothes rumpled. Atticus didn't care; that was the nice thing about Atticus, he never cared when she came in looking like a street beggar. She was a doctoral candidate who wasn't afraid to get arrested and risk getting kicked out of the doctoral program she'd fought so hard to get into. In the end it was just a piece of paper.

"How's Miss Atkinson?"

"Doing well. Have you heard from Jem?"

Ah, yes, Jem. Atticus knew it wasn't fair to Scout to sulk about Jem and then turn around and do nothing but try to ferret out some information about him. But it was his only son, and while he'd made choices that Atticus couldn't even begin to fathom, Atticus didn't want him brought back in a body bag. It was the only way he could cope.

Scout sighed and rubbed her head with the side of her fist, "No, Atticus. Nothing. He'll come home one way or another. Did you save any ham?"

*

The newspapers listed the dead, and Scout scoured them for Jem's name; down in Maycomb, Miss Atkinson scoured them for the name of her brother, who had fought in the Great War. Atticus wrote to Scout about Miss Atkinson's fretting about the papers, her constant need to check it everyday. He didn't know what she was looking for, what the war had done to her when she was a girl. She thought they might never know, unless something triggered her memory just enough for her to be lucid enough to tell them. Whenever Atticus asked at the supper table, or in the living room, Miss Atkinson would defer the question.

"Atticus, you don't want to hear about what it was like when I was a girl."

Atticus smiled, put his hand on Maude's. She was younger than him, but the disease had taken her mind. Atticus didn't understand it; she was so young. He'd taken her in, someone had to look after her. She had no family all. "I want to hear about your family."

"There isn't much," she said softly. "Just me, and I never married. Never wanted to, really. Always my gardening …"

"Did your brother marry, Maude?"

But it was no use, Miss Atkinson was talking about the gardens she'd had a child, and planting tulips in the fall, so they'd rise like hope in the spring. Hope for the soldiers. Could they maybe plant some tulips now, for the soldiers?

*

The funeral was quiet, though much of the town had turned out. Scout held her father's hand during the ceremony. After, while he stayed behind to shake people's hands and listen to their condolences, she slipped out and walked along her childhood streets until she reached home. She wondered what her father was going to do now; she'd still go off to to Washington and get arrested in front of the White House, but she didn't know how he'd cope. Maybe she'd move back to Maycomb for a while, make sure things were okay.

She stopped when she got to the kitchen, where their guest had been wordlessly sitting. "You should have come to the funeral," she said coldly. "You know how much he loves you, and you couldn't do this for him and come." She was hurt too; Maude Atkinson was the closest thing to a mother she'd ever had. 

Neither of them spoke for the longest time, the clock ticking the seconds between them.

"I'm sorry."

"Good," was all Scout said. 

More seconds ticked past.

"Scout …"

"Just stay this time," she begged. "Please, just stay this time. We need you."

"Okay," was the simple answer, and the two of them sat at the table holding hands until Atticus returned.


End file.
